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TO BEGIN OR NOT BEGIN, BAT IS THE QUESTION
The thing about Batman
Begins is that Batman has already begun like five times already. First
there was the 1943 serial Batman starring Lewis Wilson as the bat
vigilante out to stop a Japanese spymaster from turning American scientists into
pliable zombies. I think we can all agree that's the undisputed definitive
version. I mean, who doesn't remember Lewis Wilson? Then Adam West camped up
this otherwise fine little Japo-necro-zombie-thriller-noir with his 1966
television series, Batman. No zombies to be seen there. But there was
much go-go dancing. Finally, some twenty years later, the bottom finally fell
out of the go-go dancing market. So it was left to Tim Burton to reinvent the
franchise by presenting us with a darker, more serious protagonist and his
chilling, sadistic foil -- played respectively by Mr. Mom and that
astronaut that made Shirley McClain cry in Terms of Endearment (who are
not, I'm sad to say, zombies). That one was called -- are you ready for this?
Batman. He did such a good job that Warner Brothers fired him after two
films. Thus it was left to Joel Schumacher to save the day and finally give the
franchise the dramatic gravitas it deserved. This he did by handing over the
reigns to Ace Ventura and that douchebag wingman from Top Gun, all for
1996's appropriately named Batman Forever (which only lasted one film).
Rumor is there's a fourth film, but all records of it have been expunged from
the Library of Congress. So, really, I can't comment. My guess is that film
didn't have zombies either, but it must've been pretty terrifying if it had to
be stricken from the record. So, seriously, how long does it take for one guy
in bat suit to get going anyway? They really should've called it Batman
Re-Begins Again Part II: The Return.
To this film's
credit, at least it was able to trim out the pork and condense its theme down to
one word. So many superhero movies prattle on about "What lurks in the shadows
of the hearts of men" or how "United We Stand" or how "With great power comes
great responsibility." But not Batman Begins. No. This film nails it
down in one syllable: FEAR! Fear of what? Rising interest rates? The
price of oil? The spread of Islamic fascism? The film never really says. But
it sure uses that word a lot.[i]
While I'm at it, let me just
say that I love Christopher Nolan's deliciously avant-garde directing style.
Far from selling out like some critics predicted, he actually shot all of his
action sequences in classic Memento style. And by that, I mean I have no
idea what's going on. His action sequences are like puzzles you have to put
together after the movie. Fists fly, legs kick, and hours of martial arts
training gets splattered across the screen in a cinematic tie dye. It's
brilliant! Not only does this make a second viewing more thrilling, but it also
makes every future viewing practically indispensable. I mean, was that a foot?
Was that a gun? Who threw what punch where? Was this whole fight shot
backwards? I'd tell you if I could see it, but I don't have that sort of MENSA
like brain power. Right now I've spent six months analyzing the scene where
Batman attacks a group of criminals in Arkham Asylum and I'm like fifty percent
sure that Batman just kicked somebody in the crotch. In another four months I
may have solved his next move. My guess is he's going to punch the same guy in
the face. But don't quote me on that -- this is a tricky movie.
And thank God for that.
Too many movies already tell
their stories from beginning to end in such a way that -- can you believe
this? -- the audience actually has an understanding of what's going on. How
long are we going to be held prisoner by such arcane concepts as
comprehensibility? I say screw you, screen direction! A pox on you, pacing!
Burn in hell properly blocked shots! Choreography? You are the cankerous
witch's teat on which we shall have to apply our Gold Bond Medicated Cream no
longer! Of course, that's not to say that the film doesn't have its own little
quirks. It does leave me with a lot of questions.
First off, how do I get my
parents shot like Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale)? The film presents a pretty good
template, but it's more difficult than I imagined. Homicidal panhandlers are
just too hard to come by. Believe me, I've tried! And it's not just my
parents. I've thrust my friends, pets, relatives, and even casual coworkers
into harms way without even getting a single stray bullet. Heck, I even went so
far as to get the whitest of my Wonderbread friends stuck in the middle of the
West Chicago ghetto at two in the morning. Not that I personally wish
some sort of harm on any of these people. It's just that being stood up at the
Jr. High prom and getting wedgied in the 3rd grade for having a rock collection
and a particularly loud pair of Umbro shorts just doesn't carry the same sort of
angst it once did. It certainly doesn't seem like much of a justification for
dressing up as a bat and pummeling purse snatchers to a pulp. Instead, the only
thing I found in the ghetto was a nice crack dealer who gave me directions to
the nearest expressway. And a pretty decent recommendation for the White Castle
on North and Central.
Speaking of
recommendations. Where can I find someone who'll teach me to confront my fears
while fighting off six hundred men in a flurry of smoke and samurai swords? I
went to my local Karate dojo above the Walgreens, but not once did my
sensei ever threaten to spray me with toxic hallucinogens to bring about my
worst fear (which are small tap dancing Chihuahuas, by the way). Maybe he
doesn't offer that. Maybe that comes with the yellow belt. Heck, those third
graders in front of me looked pretty battle tested. Or maybe he just felt that
a crippling fear of small, hairless, Mexican bred pups with killer tap skills
wasn't much to go on. Either way, I politely asked for my deposit back and
spent it on Icees and Cherry Pocket Pies at the 7/11 next door. Bruce,
however, is far luckier. He finds the only immortal Egyptian swordmaster in all
of Tibet (Liam Neeson) -- and with a Dublin accent! And if that doesn't beat
all, he also looks like that guy who got sawed in half by Darth Maul in The
Phantom Menace. Lucky bastard. While I suck on my blue raspberry Big Gulp,
Bruce gets to spend his time getting pummeled by Quigon Jin. I can only assume
that Master Yoda was asleep at the switch when Quigon was offering Bruce the
chance to decapitate pickpockets. Or maybe he's into that sort of thing. You
know, when he's not having good relations with Wookies.
Speaking of good relations.
How do I get an Alfred (Michael Caine)? Ninja Bruce returns to Gotham with a
readymade accomplice in hand. Not so easy with me. Butlers are a hard breed to
come by. I know. I've tried to mold my younger brother into one. My mistake.
Far from being receptive to the whole "manservant" thing, I think he actively
worked to sabotage it. For example, he vindictively poured my gilded silver
platter of gazpacho soup all over my bed. And to make matters worse, it wasn't
even gazpacho! But a liter of saliva he had been spitting up over the course of
a week! Not so with Alfred. He happily goes along with every bat guano gonzo
idea Bruce comes up with. Not once does he raise an eyebrow, or bat an eye, or
check the phonebook for Arkham's hotline. Instead, he seems just chomping at
the bit to ask, "Mind if I tuck you in, Master Wayne?" And then probably runs
off to polish Bruce's jet black rubber codpiece.
Speaking of black. How do I
get a Luscious Fox (Morgan Freeman)? Upon returning to his dead parents'
business, Mr. Wayne enlists the help of the top R&D guy to fulfill his vigilante
fantasies. Not only does Mr. Fox go along with it, but he gets a promotion to
CEO! Meanwhile, I approach Bill Gates, Dick Cheney, and Rupert Murdock with my
fantasies of dressing up like a giant rat and beating street dwellers to a pulp,
and all I get is a mention on the US's Terrorist Watch List. I mean, not that I
mind. Constant body cavity searches are good for staying regular. But where's
the love?
Speaking of love. How does
that chick from Dawson's Creek bag Bruce Wayne and land a stint as an
Assistant D.A.? Katie Holmes plays Rachael Dawes and I'm not sure how to feel.
I mean, granted, the ability to navigate yourself through a highly implausible
WB teen sex drama isn't something to take lightly. But I've been applying for
the position of driver's license picture taker at my local DMV for years and
can't even get an interview! Yet here's Joey Parker on the government payroll
lecturing Batman about civic responsibility -- or better yet, perkily putting
perps away in court. No wonder Gotham's crime rate is out of control. Really,
if all it takes to become an Assistant D.A. is to climb up the TV ladder through
cheesy soap operas and pretend you find Tom Cruise sexy, then congrats -- Nicole
Kidman is Stephen Hawking![ii]
Speaking of funny voices,
why does Batman sound like Dirty Harry on a drunken bender? Didn't Christian
Bale sing a heartfelt love song to the City of Santa Fe in the Disney musical,
Newsies?[iii]
Why not just use that lovely singing voice of his? Believe me, if I had some
bicep bulging Bald Mountain of a man dressed like a vampire-commando drag me to
the edge of a building, I'd be pretty scared. But if he started addressing me
in songs while dangling me over the edge? I'd drop my bladder like a bloated
water balloon.
And while we're on the
subject of scares, how is a Scarecrow scary? True, the ability to intimidate
small, noisy, carrion birds away from your government subsidized corn crops is a
good skill to have. But it doesn't strike me as a particularly frightening
supervillain. My only guess is it must've killed in Des Moines. Fortunately,
he has an ace up his sleeve. He puts a paper bag over his head!!! Fearing that
sort of gag only works on toddlers, he also uses a toxic fear serum to terrify
his victims into insanity. Really, though, it's kind of redundant. Just take
the bag off! I mean, the guy's played by Cillian Murphy -- a man who sucks in
his cheeks and purses his lips so much that I think his skull is shrink wrapped
and vacuum sealed. Plenty terrifying for the average filmgoer.[iv]
Speaking of terrifying, the
Scarecrow plans to gas the entire city, and he's found a way to do it without
even eating at Taco Bell! Apparently he's working for a super secret group of
anarchists led by Batman's old Gaelic Jedi Master. Turns out they're the ones
who sacked Rome, burnt London to the ground, and sent Bush to Iraq. Now it's
Gotham's turn, and their evil scheme has something to do with waterways,
electromagnetic vaporizers, ninja acrobats, birdlike gas masks, and monorails.
It's like a terrorist attack contrived by disgruntled Disney Imagineers.
All of this builds to a
stunningly incoherent climax. Convicts are let loose, riots break out, toxins
released, cops deployed, Lt. Gordon drives the Batmobile, there's a runaway
train helmed by Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor, the Con Air plane is out of fuel,
there's some thing on the wing, the Containment System's been shut down
and the nice lady who paid Venkman in advance has been turned into a dog while
the Stay Puft Marshmallow man has risen on the back of the Cloverfield monster
to make way for the coming of Gozer -- AND THEY'RE ALL HEADING TOWARDS EACH
OTHER!
Fortunately, the film
chooses to follow The Scarecrow, and he goes down like a French domino.[v]
Yes, Scarecrow may have the power of fear on his side, but Rachel has the power
of four AA batteries and a $19.99 K-mart Quality Taser. Thus, the madman is
forced to ride off into the fog, forever annoyed that he got bested by that
chick from First Daughter. While Rachel plans for Scarecrow II:
Electric Boogaloo, Batman faces his greatest challenge yet: an Angus beef
patty faced middle-aged white guy in a Daffy Duck mask. Amazingly, this proves
nearly too much for The Bat. And their climactic duel only serves to show that
Franklin Delano Roosevelt's maxim was correct: "The only thing we have to fear
is an Irish born thespian in a Fu Manchu mustache."
If you can't already guess
the ending then I won't give it away. I have no idea what happens, myself.
There's some random shots of fists and feet and tanks with flying monorails and
the occasional explosion. Personally, I think the butler did it.
As a movie going experience,
I'd rank Batman Begins somewhere between watching Fight Club and
playing Clue -- probably at the same time. It's a pretty good flick,
though a tad confusing. But if you accept the fact that it'll raise more
questions than a group of kindergartners being taught Quantum Mechanics by Jean
Claude Van Damme, then it's certainly worth the watch. Frankly, I'm glad that
after 80 something years Batman has finally gotten around to beginning. And I
look forward to the inevitable sequels. I'm told that, in the typical Nolan
fashion, they will all be shot backwards and in sixteen separate languages, with
action sequences filmed with the lens cap on, Music by Hans Zimmer and Bjork,
and a narrative presented out of order -- with the first act last, the third act
first, and the second act appearing not at all (which is not to diminish the
fourth and fifth acts, which will appear before and after the Coming Attraction
trailers). Thankfully, this means I'll have plenty of Batman watching,
rewatching, and reconstructive rewatching to do. Probably forty years worth.
And by about that time, Batman should just about be getting to the middle. So
to the man who will someday direct Batman Continues in 2036, I say,
"Carry on, my wayward son! There'll be peace when you are done!"
And, hopefully, zombies.
[i]
Some sample dialog: "Mr. Wayne, I fear you fear that you are beholden
to your fear. But through your fear you will feel my fear telling you
to fear not! For if you master your fear, then your fear will fear my
fear and you will be able to strike fear into the hearts of men. Then I
fear you will have nothing to fear but fear itself! Fear." See
what I mean?
[ii] That's a cheap shot, I know. Nicole
Kidman's IQ is reportedly 132. (133 now that she's left Tom Cruise)
[iii] I don't know why I know that either.
[iv] And if that doesn't work, there's
always Hollywood's go-to monster guy, Gary Oldman. He plays Lt. Jim
Gordon with the scariest visage of all: his normal face!
[v] I apologize for that rude ethnic
slur. I didn't mean to insult the dominos.
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